Undeclared
by BeccaRamsey
Summary: A month after Perry takes the bench, the trio has a reunion...of sorts. (Perry-Della, Paul-Female relationships.)


* * *

TITLE: Undeclared 

RATING: PG-13. Adult themes and content.

DISCLAIMERS: The characters contained herein, with the exception of Josie Miller, Theron Barry, and Caroline Gerrard, belong to the estate of Erle Stanley Gardner et. al. They are used here strictly for entertainment purposes. No profit is to be made from the publishing of this story.

Flames will be dutifully ignored.

SUMMARY: A month after Perry takes the bench the old friends have a reunion... of sorts. (Contains Perry/Della 'ship, Paul/female 'ship.)

NOTE: This story is something of a departure for me, focussing not on a major case in Perry's life, but on a Perry-Della storyline. It was a plot bunny that tortured me relentlessly over the past years, and finally came to fruition after a good deal of support from a few fellow Mason!Fic writers. It was posted on a couple of the lists I frequent a while back, and I decided to widen my reperatoire here at 

Thanks to Hortense Z. for allowing me to borrow Josie. Her story, "Making Memories," was a big inspiration for this story, and can be found in the archive at Shippers Haven (rated PG-13). Huge thanks also to Debra B. for an excellent proofing/beta job. Any errors you see now are my own fault!

* * *

_"Sometimes the impossible  
Shows up undeclared  
That's when the impossible  
Shows you that it's possible --  
Maybe even beautiful  
To double what you dared."_  
-- Harry Connick, Jr,  
"Learn to Love"

* * *

"And it was in this way that the district attorney's case was flawed-technically-therefore, setting the precedent for a reversal of the court's decision," Perry Mason stated as he and his clerk, Theron Barry, rounded the corner into his chambers. Clad in his black robe, a manila folder tucked under his arm, the judge grabbed a cup of coffee from his secretary as he passed her desk. To his credit, Theron Barry nodded in understanding. He could, for once, follow Mason's logic. In the past month, there had been many times, where the young clerk had been unable to understand the judge's chain of thought, even after full dissemination. He smiled as they entered Mason's private chambers. Mason's new secretary, Caroline Gerrard, was a mere two steps behind. 

"So, how does it feel to make your first reversal?" Caroline asked.

Mason set aside his folder and coffee cup, stripping off the black robe. He hung it on the coat rack just to the left of his credenza. Looking to Barry and Caroline, he gave a slight grin, a twinkle in his eyes. "Given it was a Hamilton Burger case -- fantastic," he admitted. He took a careful sip of his coffee.

The phone on Caroline's desk rang with shrill insistence. "I'll get it," she said, stepping out into the outer office. "Judge Mason's office....Yes, of course. Hold, please." The young redhead leaned back in the direction of Mason's private office, holding the phone off to her left as the cord stretched. "Your Honor?"

"Yes?"

"Miss Della Street, line two."

There was no missing the light that ignited in Mason's eyes. "I'll take it in here," he said. He glanced at his clerk. "Excuse me a moment, won't you?"

Barry and Caroline exchanged glances. "Of course, your Honor," Barry said with a lopsided grin. He backed out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Grabbing the receiver, Mason quickly lifted it to his ear. "I have it, Caroline," he said. There was a click as she hung up her extension. "Della?"

"Good morning, Your Honor." The smooth, familiar voice of his former secretary, Della Street came over the telephone line. Perry could almost see her smile across the miles separating them.

"Good morning, Della. How are things in Los Angeles?"

"Oh, just trying to keep up with the boss, filing a few civil actions," she said. "The usual."

"Staying as busy as you did with me?"

Della laughed. "Heavens no! I don't believe any attorney's office will ever be as lively as yours, what with the late hours, dodging the police--"

"All right, Della, I get the point," Mason replied with a chuckle.

There was a pause in their conversation. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, but he could sense some hesitancy. "Are you doing all right?" His voice was gentle, concerned.

"Doing fairly well, Chief." There was a waver in her voice. Had it been anyone other than Mason listening, it might have gone unnoticed, but after years of working late hours, sharing midnight dinners, and late-night dancing, he knew when Della Street was upset.

It took Mason only a split second to decide his course of action. "Della, are you busy this weekend?"

"Hardly," she answered. Her voice dropped slightly. "What did you have in mind, Mister Mason?"

Mason grinned. "I thought I might convince you to head south..."

"I think that can be arranged. Hotel's nearby?"

"Only if you want to stay there. I managed to find a two-bedroom down here. You're welcome to the spare room."

"Are you sure you want to risk that sort of scandal, Perry? I mean, you've hardly been on the bench a month-"

"You let me worry about that," Mason interrupted. "Unless you're concerned --"

"I'd be happy to, Perry."

Once again, Mason saw Della's smile in his mind's eye and gave his own smile. "See you tomorrow night?"

"See you then. Good bye, Perry." With a click the line was dead.

Thoughtfully, Mason placed the receiver into the cradle and stared at it for a long moment, wondering what, exactly, had just happened.

* * *

Caroline Gerrard sat at her desk, busily pounding away as she transcribed Mason's notes from shorthand to longhand via her electric typewriter. "-Therefore, it is the opinion of this Court that the decision of People versus Keesler be reversed, citing cases-" She mumbled to herself as she copied over the several citations which the judge had listed. As she triumphantly tapped her last punctuation mark, the door to the judge's chambers opened. Looking up, she watched a slender brunette of thin to medium build enter the office. Caroline took note of the tailored jacket and straight, knee-length skirt that modestly displayed to advantage both her figure and her long, stockinged legs. She clutched a black purse in her hand. 

Making eye contact with Caroline, the woman smiled. "Is Judge Mason in?"

"He is. He doesn't have session today," Caroline said with a nod. She pushed herself up from her desk. "Whom shall I say is calling?"

"Della Street."

Caroline hoped her surprise wasn't terribly evident in her face. She smiled. "Of course, Miss Street. If you'll wait one moment --"

Della nodded. "Of course."

Rounding the corner of her desk, Caroline Gerrard tapped lightly on the door to Mason's private chambers. "Come!" came the standard reply. She eased the door open, stepping inside. "Your Honor?"

Mason looked up from a copy of the Southwestern Reporter. "Yes?"

"Della Street is here to see you."

The judge looked past Caroline, spotting Della just outside the door frame. Della smiled demurely, glancing into the office, then ducked behind Caroline, clutching her purse to her. A light smile flickered across Perry's lips. "Let her in, Caroline," he said. As he waited, Caroline stepped aside, allowing Della to enter. Caroline hesitated, hovering near the door. After an awkward moment, Mason broke eye contact with Della, and looked to Caroline. "That'll do, Caroline," he said.

The young secretary gave a start. "Oh, yes, of course... I'm sorry," she apologized. With a blush and a rueful smile, she closed the door as she slipped back into her office. She stood staring at the closed door for a long moment.

Stepping out from his tiny office, Theron said, "Hey, Caroline, have you seen the latest update for the Southwestern --" He paused mid-thought as he noted Caroline's distraction. "Caroline? You all right?"

Caroline turned to Theron, her face taking on a slow grin. "She's here."

"Who's here?"

"Della."

"Della Street?"

Caroline nodded.

"In there?"

Again, she nodded.

"I'll be...Did she say anything?"

"Not hardly a word. She walked in here, dressed fairly to the nines, and cool as a cucumber, asked if Judge Mason was in. So I said, 'yes; he didn't have session today, whom should I say is calling?' When she said, 'Della Street,' I about tripped over my own feet, getting to the door."

"I'll bet you did." Theron's imagination was conjuring up the mental image.

"What happened when you showed her in?"

"Not a thing. They stood there, looking at one another, quiet and intense-like. I couldn't see her face, but his was pretty solid."

"They don't call him the statue for nothin,' " Theron commented. He paused a beat. "What about his eyes?"

"Not sure, a hard mix to judge there," Caroline replied. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He was definitely glad to see her. I guess, after working with someone night and day for years, going cold turkey has been hard for him."

"Especially when you've heard the rumor mill about those two."

"Rumor mill?"

Theron nodded with a chuckle. "Sometimes I forget you're a young lass of but twenty-four." She crinkled her nose at him. "The gossip sheets in Los Angeles used to be full of tidbits about those two. Dinner, dancing, long weekends away-that sort of thing."

At that, Caroline gave a long, low whistle. "That explains a lot." She looked up at Theron, with her own lopsided grin. "I'd love to be a fly on the wall about now."

Theron Barry chuckled. "You and about half the legal community."

* * *

Mason rounded the edge of his desk, meeting Della halfway across the office. "You're early." 

Della smiled warmly at him. "I had a few vacation days stored up," she said. "I figured, what better way to use them?"

Silently, Mason crossed the room and met her half way. His arms slipped naturally around her and she folded her arms against her, placing her palms against his chest. Della closed her eyes and sighed. "My gosh, it's wonderful to see you, Perry." Her voice was muffled as she talked into his shoulder.

Mason readjusted his arms around her, pulling her closer. "Have any trouble on the drive down?"

"None at all. Packed my things last night and hopped in the car early this morning. It was a breeze." She tilted her face up to him. For a long time, neither said anything. Finally, she commented, "Missed me that much?"

For an answer, Mason lowered his head once more. Another long, silent moment passed. He drew back. "Does that answer your question, Miss Street?"

She grinned up at him. "The defense rests, Your Honor."

Releasing her, Perry squeezed her shoulders. Her presence had brought a reminder of his counsel days -- and nights -- jumping into the melee and slipping through by the skin of his teeth. Suddenly, the confines represented by his office, robe, and law books seemed smothering. Glancing at his desk, he grimaced.

"Routine already getting to you, Chief?"

Mason blinked, turning back to Della. "You pick the damned times to read my mind, Della." He paused. "Feel like getting out of here?"

Della smiled. "Sounds heavenly. Can you just...up and leave?"

Mason nodded. "I can. Let me close up here, and we'll head out for some lunch and we'll have the rest of the day to ourselves." His arms slid from around her, he turned to his desk and buzzed the intercom.

Caroline appeared in the doorway a split second later. "Yes, Your Honor?"

"Caroline, I'm taking off for the rest of the day. If anything comes up, talk to Theron. I don't know when I'll be available by phone again." He snapped his briefcase closed, then looked at Caroline.

"Uhm, yes, sir," she stammered, blinking.

Cradling Della's elbow with his left hand, and holding his briefcase in his right, Mason flashed Caroline a smile. "Have a good weekend. See you Monday," he said.

As she and Perry moved past Caroline toward the door, Della smiled at her. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Still stunned, Caroline could only nod as Mason and Street stepped past her, nodded to Theron, then disappeared out the door.

Theron blinked and turned to Caroline. "Gone for the day?"

"Gone for the day," she answered. Her mind having finally resolved the past moments, her eyes suddenly lit with an impish gleam. "And incommunicado."

At that, Theron nearly choked on his coffee.

* * *

On a large quilt spread across a patch of lush green grass in his back yard, Della Street leaned back against Perry Mason and sighed contentedly. Beside them the radio, running off a long extension cord, hummed, providing a quiet backdrop to the sunny southern California day. 

"I think I'll just stay right here; live a life of leisure, swimming in the morning, sunbathing all afternoon, and dancing the night away," she said.

Propped on his elbow, Mason intertwined his fingers with hers. Their joined hands rested lightly in her lap. "That can be easily arranged, Della."

"Not so easily arranged," Della replied. She shifted slightly, turning to face him. "Perry, you and I both know I just can't desert Los Angeles. I still have a job, Aunt Mae is still close by -"

Mason nodded. "I know, Della." He smiled ruefully. "Call it wishful thinking."

"Listening to those cases, digging up all those citations, documenting your decisions-you're just bored, Perry. What you need is a little excitement." She eyed him as he opened his mouth to speak. Absently, her left hand played over the smooth surface of the black onyx ring he wore on his pinky. "Of a covert nature," she amended, hesitating.

He watched her carefully. "And you have just the thing?"

Della nodded, her eyes drifting down to their intertwined hands. She wrinkled her brow and her eyes darkened. "Perry, something's happened."

He noted the shift in her manner. "Something?" he asked. His own features took on an expression of concern. "Della, what's wrong?"

She avoided his eyes. "Coming into this, I was prepared for any consequences," she started slowly. "I still am, always will be." Della lapsed into silence.

"But?"

"But..." Her bottom lip quivered. "...This is absolutely the worst timing, what with you on the bench, and..." She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. "Perry, I'm going to have a baby."

Mason blinked, shaking his head as though he had been slapped. "Della..."

"I know we were very careful, Perry, and I don't expect-"

"Della -" Perry sat bolt upright, as though stung by her words. His hands came to rest on her shoulders.

Della shook her head, averting her eyes. Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. "No, it's all right. I'm not going to jeopardize your appointment over this-"

In one smooth movement, Mason sat up, cupping her face in his palms, stopping her mid-sentence. She gave a start, then slowly relaxed. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"Marry me, Della," he said after a long moment.

She looked at him with new tears in her eyes. "I-I can't, Perry. Not this way, not now. Six months from now, the gossip columns would be filled, your reputation would be ruined, and you'd lose your effectiveness on the bench. It would be the biggest political mess since Joe McCarthy."

"They can't fire me, Della."

"But they can ask you to step down. I don't want that."

"What if I do?"

Della shook her head. "You're just saying that to make me feel better." She smiled gently at him, bringing her palm to his cheek. "As much as I want to, I can't."

"What about your reputation, Della? I may not give a damn about what other people think, but what about you?"

"I have a very supportive family, Perry, you know that. Aunt Mae loves you. Mother really likes you. No one is going to come after you with a shotgun," she answered. "I'll be fine."

"But if you stay in Los Angeles-"

"I won't be staying in Los Angeles. I'm going back home for a while."

"Home? Della, a small town, local-girl-made-good suddenly comes home and..." Mason shook his head. "No, Della, you can't go home. You'll be the top story in the local news, and I don't want that."

He paused. "This has never been...Dammit, I just don't want people drawing the wrong conclusions."

Della diverted her eyes to her hands. "Then where do I go?"

"I don't know." Mason sighed, shaking his head. Gently, he reached down, placing his hand over hers. "I don't know yet, Della, but we'll figure it out. You're not going back to Los Angeles until we do figure it out." He reached and tilted her chin. "In the meantime, let's enjoy this time. We've earned it, and it's going to be a long time until we get another chance."

* * *

Theron Barry woke up at eight a.m. on Saturday to the insistent chime of the telephone. Sleepily, he reached from beneath the covers, drawing the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" 

"Theron? It's Mason."

Theron bolted upright in his bed. "Your Honor? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Theron, things are fine, but I need you to get some information for me."

"Uhm, sure. Involving a case?" The clerk sifted through the papers in his nightstand, struggling to find a notepad and pencil.

"I don't have time for explanations. Got a pen and paper?" Mason asked.

"Just a second." Another moment of digging and he came up with a small notepad and the stub of a pencil. "Go ahead."

"I need you to locate a Mr. Paul Drake for me. He's a private detective, who used to do a lot of work for me. He moved about the time I took to the bench, and I haven't heard from him since."

Theron jotted down the name and previous location. "It should be pretty easy to find him, given he's licensed. Anything else?"

"No, that's it. Give him my home phone number and have him contact me immediately."

"Understood."

"Thanks, Theron. See you Monday." With that, Theron heard a click, followed by silence. Sighing, he hung up the phone and headed for a shower.

* * *

Della entered Perry Mason's study. Perry's thick, terrycloth robe concealed her figure, wet hair framing her face in loose curls. She held a hairbrush in her right hand. "Anything?" she asked. 

Mason looked up. "Not yet. I wasn't able to find Paul, so I sent Theron chasing after him. He should have something before the end of the day."

"Feels almost like old times."

"It hasn't been that long."

"Seems like forever."

The doorbell interrupted Mason as he opened his mouth to speak. Silently, he gestured to Della, and she ducked out of sight. He then strode across the room and peered through the peephole. "It's the mailman, Ernest Howser." Della nodded once, then disappeared up the stairs.

Mason paused only a moment longer, then opened the door. "Good morning, Ernie," he said.

"Good morning, Mister Mason," said the affable younger man. He gave a wide smile. "Got a package for ya today."

"Oh?"

Ernie dug into his large satchel and withdrew a box, wrapped in brown paper. He turned it sideways, looking at the return address. "From 'R. Mason, Boulder, Colorado.'" He looked to Mason. "Family?"

"Yes, actually. My older brother. Lives in Boulder with his wife, Pauline."

"Ahhh. Well, here ya are." Ernie handed the package to Mason. "Have a good one, Mister Mason."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Ernie." Closing the door, Mason stood in the foyer, studying the box. An idea slowly began to form. As it began to gel, he rushed to his desk and grabbed the telephone.

* * *

Paul Drake stood at the roulette wheel, chips in hand. The flamboyant lighting of the hotel lobby changed his manicured white hair into different colors as they flashed, painting his complexion in alternating colors of yellow and orange. On his right arm was a statuesque blonde named Josie Miller. "Come on black twenty-two!" he called. Josie gripped his sleeve, hopeful eyes locked on the roulette wheel. 

"Mister Paul Drake?"

Blinking away as the roulette wheel slowed, Paul turned to look behind him.

A man, clad in the uniform of hotel concierge, stood just over his right shoulder.

"Mister Paul Drake?" the man repeated.

Drake eyed the man warily. "Yes?"

"There's a phone call for you, sir. You can take it at any of the white phones."

As the man walked away, Drake rolled his eyes. "Why me?" He shook his head and turned to Josie. "Here, Doll. Hold on to these." He placed his chips into her hand. "I have a phone call." Stalking to the nearest house phone, he lifted the receiver to his ear. "Drake speaking," he said. He plugged a finger in his ear to drown out the din of the casino.

"This is Theron Barry of Judge Mason's office," came an unfamiliar voice. "I am speaking with the Paul Drake who worked with Judge Mason?"

"The one and only." Drake furrowed his brow. "Say, what's happening? Is Mason in some kind of trouble?"

"None that I know of, Mister Drake. I received a telephone call this morning, asking that I find you and have you contact him."

"Okay," Drake said. He hunched his shoulder, holding the phone to his ear as he dug for his notepad and pencil. "All right, shoot. Where can I reach him?" Barry gave him the phone number and he jotted it down in his pad. Drake then glanced at his watch. "Did Perry say anything about the best time to call?"

"He said as soon as you could."

"All right. I'll go find a quiet corner and give him a call. Thanks, Barry."

"Thank you, Mister Drake."

Reaching up, Drake tapped the phone switch. On the second tap, he was connected to the hotel operator. "I need to place a person to person call to Thornwell 6-1749," he said into the receiver. "Charge the call to my guest room, suite 357."

"Hold please," said the operator. A moment later, the phone rang.

Seated at his desk, Mason looked at Della Street. She sat with her legs folded beneath her, in one of the large, overstuffed chairs, her gaze intently directed at a book. As the light filtered in from the western sunset, her profile was silhouetted in the reddish hues of the fading sunlight. He sat for a moment in silence, his eyes tracing the contour of her nose, the gentle curve of her lips; his gaze drifted down the arch of her neck, and he admired the way it flowed effortlessly into her shoulders. Then, as though sensing his appraisal, she turned. "You're stunning, Della."

Della's eyes warmed and her lips curved into a soft smile as she blushed a light rose. She shook her head, looking over her attire for the afternoon-a simple pair of pants and sweater set. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl."

He smiled back. A long moment passed, neither saying a word. Then the phone rang, shattering the silence. Mason frowned, lifting the receiver to his ear. "Mason," he said.

"You know, Perry, your timing hasn't gotten any better since we parted company."

Mason laughed. "You have no idea, Paul." He listened, hearing clatter and bells in the background. "Where the devil are you, Paul

"About to get married, if you must know!"

"Married!" Perry looked to Della, surprise registering in both their expressions.

"You remember Josie Miller?"

"Sure, Paul. Tall, blonde... was with us when we headed to the mountains a few years ago?"

"That's the one. I finally got the nerve to pop the question and Josie, bless her heart, said yes. We're here killing a little time before we head to the chapel."

"Well, congratulations, Paul!" Mason shook his head. "How long do you think you'll be there?"

"Josie has to go back to work on Monday morning, so we've booked a puddle jumper for tonight. Why?"

"Think you could make a pass back through San Diego? I've got a job for you, Paul."

"A job?" Paul hesitated. "For the bench?"

"No, Paul. It's personal this time."

"Sure, but what about Josie?"

"Bring her with you, Paul. She can keep Della company."

"Della! She's there?"

"Yes, Paul. She drove down from Los Angeles yesterday."

"Staying with you?"

"If it's any of your business, yes, Paul. Unfortunately, you and Josie will have to stay at the hotel nearby. I'll call and make the reservations."

"If you're paying, by all means." Drake chuckled. "Anything else you should tell me?"

"Not over the phone. You'll find out when you get here."

The detective sighed. "I just love a good mystery. All right, Perry. We'll see you tonight." He paused.

"Oh, and by the way?"

"Yes, Paul?"

"I'm sending you the bill for the plane tickets." With that, Drake laughed and hung up. Mason shook his head as he returned the receiver to the cradle of the telephone. "That -- was Paul. Apparently, he and Josie skipped off to Vegas for some quick nuptials."

"Amazing. Absolutely amazing," Della commented.

"What?"

"I never saw Paul as the marrying type."

Perry grinned. "Neither did he."

* * *

Saturday evening found Robert Mason stepping out of the cab, looking at the slip of paper in his hand. "Twenty-seven-o-one Grumman," he read aloud. His eyes took in the two-story house, done in a brown shade of stucco and capped with a red roof. The grounds were well kept, and a high privacy fence enclosed the back yard. "Not bad, little brother." Quickly he tucked the slip of paper into his pocket, rounding the back of the cab. He pulled the passenger door handle as the driver removed two suitcases from the trunk. Offering his hand, Robert helped his wife, Pauline, from her seat. She, also, looked over the house approvingly. Robert paid the cab driver, tipping him well, then made his way up the sidewalk, carrying the suitcases. Pauline followed a step behind. Reaching the doorbell, he rang the chime. He was startled when the door was answered not by his brother, but by an unfamiliar brunette. "Is this the Perry Mason residence?" 

The woman nodded, and her smile warmed. "Yes, it is. And you must be Robert and Pauline Mason." She extended her hand. "Della Street."

Robert took it, pumping it once. "So you're the famous Della Street," he said. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Street."

"And you," Della Street replied. She turned to Mrs. Mason. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mason."

Pauline Mason shook hands with Della. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Street." There was a curious gleam in Pauline's eyes. If Della noticed, she chose not to acknowledge it.

Della stepped aside, allowing Robert and Pauline to enter. "If you'll come in, I'll go and tell Perry you're here."

The husband and wife entered, pausing in the foyer. As they watched, Della disappeared upstairs and into one of the rooms off to the left. Pauline turned to Robert. "I didn't know he was bringing his secretary down," she commented quietly.

Robert shook his head. "She's not his secretary anymore. I guess they're just...friends now," he replied. "When he moved into the appellate court, he told me Della wasn't going with him. I was a little surprised, but she did still have family near Los Angeles. I guess she's just down for the weekend."

"Think it has anything to do with the phone call?"

"Who knows?" Robert shrugged.

"Robert! Polly!" Turning, they saw Mason standing at the top of the stairs. He was smiling, and unusually casual in his attire, his hair unstyled; a single lock of hair fell against his forehead. He trotted down the staircase.

"Perry!" his brother exclaimed. He grabbed the offered hand, shaking it enthusiastically, then wrapping the judge in a hug. "Glad to see you. It's been too long!"

"That it has," Perry said. He gently hugged Pauline. "Good to see you again, Polly."

"And you, Perry." Pauline planted a kiss on his cheek.

"So...where do you want us to put the luggage?"

Perry exchanged glances with Della. She nodded imperceptibly. He turned back to Robert. "There's a spare bedroom across the hall from mine. You can put your things in there."

Pauline offered a warm but apologetic smile. "If the two of you will excuse us, we're going to go get cleaned up before dinner." Robert lifted the two suitcases and began the ascent to the second floor. Pauline smiled at Della as she made her way up the staircase. "See you at dinner."

Then, as Robert and Pauline disappeared into the guest bedroom, Della asked, "What time is dinner?"

"Damned if I know, Della." Mason grinned.

* * *

Sighing, Perry Mason eased his empty plate away, toward the center of the table. It scraped the wooden table, shattering the silence, which had fallen over the foursome after what had been a festive dinner. As he leaned back, his gaze drifted toward Della. He watched as she unenthusiastically poked at a few remaining green beans on her plate, her lips pursed in thought. Silently, he reached over and placed his hand over hers. With a weary smile, she looked up at him. As she saw the tenderness in his eyes, however, new tears threatened dry eyes. 

"Excuse me," she said quietly. She abruptly rose from the table, carrying her plate into the kitchen. Dishes clattered noisily as she made herself busy at the sink.

Mason slid his own chair back, rose and picked up his plate. He gave a taut smile to both Robert and Pauline, as he picked up their empty plates, stacking them on top of his own. "If you two want to head into the living room, we'll be right there."

Pauline exchanged a worried glance with Robert. "Sure, Perry," his brother replied. From the expression on his face, Robert, too, had noted the shift in mood. He cleared his throat. "Anything we can do?"

"Possibly," Perry said with a grimace. "We'll talk about that in a minute. I'm going to give Della a hand in the kitchen."

Nodding, Robert accepted the answer. Placing his hand against the small of his wife's back, he guided her from the informal dining room and into the corridor. After a moment, they disappeared into the living room.

Mason placed the plates on the counter beside the sink. Then crossing the kitchen, he closed the gap between them with two quick strides. His arms slid around her waist, and he drew her close; her head dropped to his chest. As he held her, he felt her shoulders shake with silent sobs.

Robert stood in the center of the living room, arms folded as his chin rested on his chest, his eyes considering the carpet. Then slowly he began to pace back and forth. "Something's wrong," he muttered.

Slowly Pauline lowered herself to the sofa. She folded her arms across her chest as she considered her husband's comment. "Della's pretty hurt, whatever it is," she said quietly. "Robert, you don't think..."

"Don't think what?" he asked.

Pauline shook her head. "No. I don't even want to hazard a guess. If they want us to know, we'll know." She looked up to her husband with a smile.

"Do you mind running back and getting my glass?"

Robert returned the smile. "Not at all. Be back in a second."

Rounding the corner, he bypassed the stairs and headed to the kitchen, located at the back of the house. As his foot hit the linoleum floor, he stopped, frozen, and watched as his brother quickly set aside the dinner dishes, drew Della Street to him, and wrapped her in a comforting embrace. Within a few seconds, her shoulders shook with what could have been laughter or sobs. From the expression on his brother's face, however, Robert was certain the tears which Della shed were not tears of joy. Noiselessly, he turned, creeping back into the living room. A pensive expression distorted his features.

"Robert?"

The elder Mason blinked, turning to his wife. "Hmm?"

"My glass?"

"I'll have to get it later, Polly," he replied. "After we get an explanation from my brother as to what's going on here tonight." Crossing to the desk, he withdrew a cigarette from the box and lit it. The next ten minutes were spent waiting in silence.

Eventually, Perry Mason entered the living room; hands buried deep in his pockets. His lips were pursed and his wide eyes were dark with concern. Spotting his brother's cigarette, he crossed and withdrew one of his own, carefully lighting it with the desk lighter. He then stood with his back to the desk, feet planted shoulder-width apart. His arms he folded across his chest, the cigarette pinched between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. After a long moment, twin streams of smoke spilled from his nostrils. "Della will be down in a minute," he explained. He avoided making eye contact with his brother. "She wanted a minute to freshen up."

But impatience was not a Mason attribute. Robert leveled his gaze on his brother. "Look, Perry, Pauline and I dropped everything to fly down here this evening. Della has been a charming hostess, you've been a charming host, but there's something wrong here. I think we deserve an explanation."

At this, Perry nodded. "And you'll get it as soon as Della come downstairs; this concerns her too."

Another long moment of silence passed before Della returned to the group.

She looked to Perry. "We'd better get down to it. Paul and Josie should be here soon."

Mason nodded. "As both of you know, Della has worked for me for a number of years. If you've seen the gossip columns, you know that over the years there's been a lot of speculation about us. Up until about five years ago, none of the speculation had any basis in fact."

"Then things...changed," Della continued. Her voice was quiet and moderated. "Perry and I began to see each other-outside of office hours-socially and frequently."

"Don't tell me you two snuck off and got married!" Pauline eyed her brother-in-law with playful scorn.

"Unfortunately, no, Pauline, but not for lack of trying, " Perry replied. He gave Della a slight smile.

Robert eyed his brother suspiciously. "So, then, what's wrong?"

Pauline looked from Perry, to Della, and back again. Realization slowly dawned on her and color drained from her cheeks. She swallowed, glaring at her less-astute husband. "She's carrying his baby, Robert." She looked at Della, sympathy alight in her eyes. "Am I right?" Silently, Della Street nodded.

Robert looked to his brother. "And the wedding will be when?"

"There won't be a wedding, Rob."

"No wedding? Why the hell not?"

"I turned him down."

Blinking, Robert looked at Della. "Turned him down? Why?"

"For lots of reasons, which Perry's already heard more than once. Right now, mainly because I don't want to ruin his reputation with a public scandal. It's important that he maintain respect within our field, or else he'll lose a great deal of his effectiveness on the bench." She shook her head. "I wouldn't let him marry me before, and I wouldn't let him do marry me now. Especially not now."

"So, what does this have to do with Pauline and me?"

"We're asking for your help." Perry reflected upon the cigarette, rolling it between his thumb and finger. "We'd like you to allow Della to stay with you until the baby is born and then, when she returns to Los Angeles, we'd like you and Polly to raise the child."

"Us? Raise your child?" Pauline's hand came to rest around her one strand of real pearls. "Perry, why?"

"The moment Della shows with child, it will immediately become front page news. It would take only one reporter to put two and two together. In Boulder, at least, she's not known as Perry Mason's secretary; she'll be protected from the scandal and the child will be able to grow up outside the spotlight."

"Perry has told me that you and Robert have been trying, unsuccessfully, to start a family," Della continued. "Perry and I both agree that if you consent to raise the baby, it would be the best of all possible worlds. Our child would not have to be given up for adoption and raised by strangers and we could be part of its life - even if from a distance."

Pauline looked to Della, confused. She still idly smoothed her fingers over her pearls. "Why can't you raise the child, Della? I know there's a stigma attached to single mothers, but-"

"Because I don't want Della to ruin her reputation," Perry said. "The moment she shows up obviously with child, she becomes an outcast. I refuse to let that happen." He paused to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Surely there must be a better way..." Pauline struggled.

"No Pauline," Perry said shaking his head. "We spent the better part of last night discussing our options and we feel this is our best choice."

"And impatient as always, you want an answer now? Tonight?" Robert asked. His brother nodded once. "Perry, that's not an easy thing to decide in one night."

"I know it's not, Rob. But that's the situation. We don't have the time to hesitate on this." Perry dropped a comforting hand to Della's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him and flashed a nervous smile.

There was a long moment of silence that followed as Robert and Pauline exchanged glances, in a silent conversation. In the end, she nodded. Robert gave a long sigh, then looked to his brother. "We'll do it, Perry," he said quietly. "Are there any arrangements we should make?"

Perry shook his head. "I'm taking care of that on my end. I'm having a private investigator escort Della out and make sure she's covered."

At this, Robert nodded. He rubbed his face wearily. "Well, if you folks will excuse me, I believe I have a bed upstairs that I fully intend to use." He looked at Pauline. "Coming up?"

Pauline smiled up at her husband." Very shortly." He squeezed her hand gently, then allowed it to drop, heading up the stairs. She waited until she heard the bedroom door close.

Della Street looked to at Pauline. "Thank you, Mrs. Mason. I-I can't tell you how much-"

"It's all right, Miss Street, and given the circumstances, I think it best if you call me Polly." She smiled warmly. This is not going to be easy by any means, but we'll give it our best."

"Thank you...Polly. Call me Della," Della said, returning the smile. She fought back a yawn. "Now, if you both will excuse me, I believe it's time I turned in. Good night, Polly."

"Good night, Della."

Rising, Della crossed the room. At the doorway, she paused, looking back. There was a warmth and affection in her eyes that Polly couldn't miss.

"Good night, Perry."

Mason's eyes returned the gleam. "Good night, Della." He watched her disappear up the stairs before turning back to Pauline. "Need anything before I call it a night?"

"Tell me one thing, Perry," she said.

"Shoot."

"Tell me it was more than just a casual flirtation."

Mason hesitated a moment, grinding out his cigarette in the ashtray behind him. Relaxing his stance, he leaned against the front edge of the desk. When he looked back to Pauline, there was an expression there she had not seen on his face at any point during her twenty-year marriage to Robert. He swallowed and, for a moment, she thought his eyes glassy "This was never a casual flirtation, Polly," he replied at length. His voice was deep, coarse as gravel. "We knew the risks going in. I always thought..."

"It'd be her?" Her brother-in-law nodded. Polly smiled ruefully, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Call it women's intuition, Perry, but it will be. Maybe not now, but it will be." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Good night, Perry."

* * *

It was six-thirty the following morning when Perry awoke to the irksome buzz of the alarm clock. Sitting up, he reached for the clock and switched off the alarm. As his eyes focused, he looked up toward the window. Around the edges of the shade filtered the light blue hue of the morning sky, lifting his spirits with the promise of a new day. He stretched, then crossed to the window and pulled the shade. To the west, he watched the faded blanket of darkness as it was slowly rolled back, the western-most sky still sprinkled with stars; in the east, he could make out the faint aura of the sunrise, just beyond the horizon. It seemed his house was situated just beneath that halfway point where night met morning, basking in the mixed hues and bathing the room in lavender hues. 

Turning, Mason's gaze fell upon the bed. Curled comfortably beneath the covers, Della stirred slightly as the neighborhood whippoorwill began his morning warm-up. The dim light traced her features in shadow, her lips curved slightly in a peaceful smile. Tugging the covers up over her ear, she settled in, her breathing returning to a slow pattern within a few seconds.

Mason quietly crossed the room, his bare feet padding across the cool hardwood floor. Picking up his robe from the foot of the bed, he then slipped into it, ran a hand through his hair and stepped out into the hall. He carefully closed the door behind him.

The kitchen he found in relatively good order, with only a few dishes from dinner the night before remaining on the counter. Without turning on the lights, he continued on in the hazy morning light, crossing and preparing the morning's coffee in the new electric percolator. It was as he flipped the percolator on that the doorbell exploded into the silence. Retying the sash on his robe, he traipsed through the kitchen, down the hallway and to the front door. He stifled a yawn, then opened the door. He was greeted by the familiar features of Paul Drake, his expression painted with droll humor. Beside him stood his wife of twenty-four hours, Josie Miller Drake.

"We didn't wake you, did we?" It was said in the tone, which made Perry guess Paul hoped they had.

"No, Paul. I was just putting on a pot of coffee," Mason said. He opened the door wider and they stepped in as he slipped his hand in the pocket of his robe. Once inside, he closed the door behind them.

"Perry, you remember Josie?"

Mason smiled. "Of course. Good morning, Mrs. Drake," he said. "You'll excuse my attire, but, while I am awake, it has only been about ten minutes since I was snoring peacefully."

Jose chuckled. "Of course, Mister Mason. And please, call me Josie."

"Josie it is, then." He gestured to the kitchen. "Care to join me in a cup of coffee?"

"No need to ask me twice," said Paul flashing Perry a grin, hooking Josie by the elbow and leading the way into the kitchen. "Come on, Jo. Let's take the man up on his offer before he changes his mind."

Josie looked to Mason with a hopeful glance as she was dragged toward the kitchen. Mason could only shrug and follow two steps behind. Once there, he flipped the wall switch, flooding the room with artificial light.

"Working in the dark, Perry?" Paul Drake grinned.

"When doesn't he, Paul?"

Turning, they saw Della Street standing in the door frame, tying off the sash of her robe. She smiled warmly at the sight of Paul and Josie, reached up and shook out the large curls atop her head then wove her way across the room.

"Della! Still hanging around with this bad influence?" Paul asked. "I thought we broke you of that habit a month ago."

Della laughed. "Not hardly, Paul. I'm afraid being a legal secretary to anyone else just isn't half as exciting."

"I'm sure. I figured you'd be happy with some monotony for a while."

"Not me, Paul. I'm a hardened campaigner. I guess if I'm not dodging the police, I'm just not happy." Della gave Paul a wry grin. "I hear congratulations are in order for the two of you. I'm sorry we pulled you away from your honeymoon."

Josie beamed. "I've been chasing him for years so when he finally asked, and I wasn't about to let him get away. Luckily, we'll get a real honeymoon later this year, when I can take vacation from work."

"Good for you." Della Street looked to Perry, smiled, then turned back to Paul and Josie. "Now if you kind people will excuse me, I'm off to get freshened up."

"Go for it, Beautiful. Your former boss here can give me the scoop over a cup of coffee."

Della flashed them another smile, then disappeared back down the corridor. A few moments later, the sound of water could be heard rushing through the pipes within the walls.

Paul Drake shook his head. "Got here Friday morning?"

Mason nodded. "I had been under the impression she would meet me here Friday evening, but that wasn't the case. She showed up at the office just a little shy of lunch time."

"What put the burr under her saddle?"

"The question, Paul," Mason began, pausing, "is 'who' not 'what.'"

The grin that stretched across Paul's lips slowly faded, his brows furrowing. "All right, then, who put the burr under her saddle?"

"Me."

"You?" He grimaced, lapsing into thought. After a moment, he frowned, his detective mind piecing together the clues. "Don't tell me I should have been chaperoning all those years, Perry. That was not part of our business arrangement."

"You should have been chaperoning, Paul, but it wouldn't have made a difference."

"And here I thought-" Paul broke off, mid-sentence. "Don't tell me she's the personal case I'm handling."

"She is, Paul."

"Hell's bells, Perry! What am I supposed to do?"

"We've made arrangements for her to leave Los Angeles for a while. She'll be going to Boulder, staying with my brother and his wife. You'll be playing escort and making sure the trail leads elsewhere." Coolly, Mason poured three cups of coffee.

"Why me?"

"Because I can't do it and you're the only person we trust, Paul."

For a moment, Paul found himself speechless. He took the cup of coffee from Mason mutely, swirling the dark brown liquid in the white cup. At length, he sighed, then looked up to Perry. "No charge on this one."

Mason pursed his lips. "Thank you, Paul."

A moment of silence fell over the three and Josie cleared her throat. Her voice barely audible, she said, "Congratulations, Mister Mason."

Caught off guard, Mason looked up from his coffee cup, turning his attention to Josie. She offered the flicker of a smile, compassion lighting her blue eyes.

He considered it a moment, then nodded his head once, slowly. "Thank you, Josie."


End file.
